


Your Designated Guardian Devil

by violent_ends



Series: Happiness Comes From Within, Bitches! [3]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Couch Cuddles, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drunk Chloe Decker, Established Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, F/M, Light Angst, LuciferLockDown, PromptSmiles, Protective Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Romantic Fluff, Soft Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23261806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violent_ends/pseuds/violent_ends
Summary: It's the anniversary of John Decker's death, and Chloe is sad and tipsy. Thankfully, she has a very protective Devil taking care of her, and a certain angel of Death surprising her with a friendly visit.
Relationships: Azrael & Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Azrael/Chloe Decker, Chloe Decker & John Decker, Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Series: Happiness Comes From Within, Bitches! [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670251
Comments: 57
Kudos: 460
Collections: Prompts for Smiles





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tardismyrp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tardismyrp/gifts).



> Written for the #PromptsForSmiles project on Twitter, for the prompt "Drunk Lucifer and/or Chloe".

Lucifer pours more wine into Chloe’s glass at her request, one arm safely wrapped around her shoulders where they’re sitting on his leather couch. It’s a sad day today, but Chloe is at least warm inside, both from his touch and the alcohol in her system. It’s a sad day, but she has him now, and for more than a tentative hug, a few timid tears and a couple of sandwiches.

“And then there was that one time – he took me fishing with him, and he was trying so hard to show off, but he tripped and fell into the water!”

Has she told this story already? She’s not sure: it’s all blending into one long moment, honestly. Lucifer strokes her hair from behind as she speaks, quietly protective, which if anything makes Chloe more painfully aware of the state she’s in. It’s not the first time she lets him see her like this, but just like that one time, Lucifer will make sure she won’t hurt herself or go too far.

“When he stood back up he was drenched, and he had just bought a whole fishing outfit just for the occasion – I swear, I teased him for _days_.”

“Poor man,” Lucifer chuckles, “and what a merciless little girl you were!”

“I couldn’t resist,” Chloe replies with a proud, goofy smile. “It’s just… he was perfect the rest of the time, you know? He was… always at his best, or pretended to be, I realize now. For my sake.” Her face falls, and she finds herself staring blankly at the glass in her hand.

Lucifer tightens his arm around her, pressing closer until he can kiss the top of her head. He stays there, then, with his cheek brushing against her temple. The fireplace of the penthouse burns in the semi-darkness, and he is warm and solid, and Chloe is not alone. Lucifer never met John Decker, but somehow, she’s finding it helpful to remember her father with him on the anniversary of his death.

They fall into a moment of comfortable silence, until Lucifer decides to speak. “I wish I could have met him,” he says, surprising her.

Chloe’s initial reaction is one of sadness, of course, but then she actually starts to imagine it, and she just can’t help but giggle out loud. Lucifer pulls back slightly to raise a questioning eyebrow at her.

“What’s so funny?”

Chloe laughs harder, then wipes a tear from the corner of one eye – she doesn’t want to be mean, but oh, it’s just _hilarious_.

“I mean… Don’t take this the wrong way, but… my dad would have _hated_ you,” she snorts at the end of the sentence, red wine sloshing in her glass as she tries not to move it too much.

Lucifer’s face morphs into a scowl. “You underestimate me, Detective. I effortlessly charmed your delightful mother, after all. And, well… you.”

Hold on, he did what now?

“Effort-” – she struggles with the word – “Effortlessly? Me?”

He glares at her, but with no real offense in his eyes. “Well, _you_ took your sweet time, but it’s not _my_ fault if you’re a bit of an odd duck, Detective.”

“I'm not a duck!” Wait, why is she focusing on that? “ _You_ are a duck. You are the one with the feathers here!”

Lucifer snorts. “Oh my Dad, you are _so_ drunk.”

“’m not,” Chloe mumbles, not really believing it herself. “And anywaaay… why don’t _you_ ever get drunk with me, mm? I have seen you drunk. Wouldn’t it be even easier with me here?”

Lucifer studies her with more seriousness than she expected. “It would, yes. I just… I’d rather keep an eye on you, Detective. I am your designated guardian Devil after all.”

It sounds ridiculous and sweet at the same time – so _him_ , in conclusion. Chloe’s expression softens.

“Yes, you are.”

Then she looks at her glass, brings it to her lips and gulps down the entire content in one go.

“Hey! Easy there, tiger,” Lucifer scolds her softly, taking it from her hand to put it on the table, though clearly too late.

“Why? Since you said you want to keep an eye on me… let me get _really_ drunk. I promise I won’t rummage… radish… ravish you.” She pokes him in the chest for emphasis, leaning way too heavily in his direction until he steadies her and guides her to rest against his side, her head in the crook between his neck and shoulder.

Lucifer rubs soothing circles on her back, and Chloe automatically tucks herself closer, curling into a ball. Her socked feet brush against his knee, so absurd with their pattern of tiny red hearts next to the fabric of his expensive pants. She kinda likes it, though. They have always been so different, and this silly little thing reminds her that it’s okay for them to be.

“Do you remember when you actually _wanted_ to ravish me?” Lucifer says suddenly, pulling back a bit to give her a smug grin. He always jumps at the opportunity to brag about it.

“Yes, yes… Five-star hell hole, Rosemary’s baby, Albanian field wench, the whole deal.”

“Mm,” Lucifer makes a pensive sound, his eyes shining and intense. “I don’t know if I ever told you, but… I think that was the moment I realized I truly… cared about you. As a person. Not just as yet another woman to get into my bed. I probably didn’t see it so clearly at the time, but… I do remember it fondly, now.”

Chloe smiles at him, blinking slowly, her hand stroking his chest absentmindedly. She’s starting to get a bit sleepy, to be honest, which leads her to ask, “Are you telling me all this because you think I won’t remember any of it?”

He chuckles. “No, silly. I actually hope you will.”

“Mmkay.” She presses her face under his chin, nuzzling along his jaw, and shifts closer until Lucifer gets the hint and basically wraps her in his arms, with Chloe’s knees tight against her chest like a baby.

“Time for all good Detectives to go to sleep?” Lucifer asks softly, his deep voice rumbling from his chest and directly into her ear.

“Nuh-uh. I wanna stay here,” she complains childishly. The poor Devil is still dressed and sitting with her full weight on him, but it’s pleasant, and Chloe doesn’t care about anything else. He’s a big boy, he'll survive.

“What, the whole night?” he asks, brushing her hair away from her face. Chloe is slowly drifting off to dreamland but his touch is keeping her afloat, for now.

“Forever,” she whispers with her eyes closed. It’s stupid, but she means it. Forever. And ever and ever and ever. Yup. She is not getting up from here. Watch her.

She expects Lucifer to mock her, instead he says, “I’m sure I can arrange that. Get someone to deliver food here, clean after us, the whole nine yards. Whatever you desire, my love.”

“Even if I'll end up getting fat and crushing you?”

“Even then.”

These are the moments when Chloe knows, so _clearly_ , why she loves him. Even as drunk as she is. Lucifer makes her feel safe, but at the same time, he knows perfectly well that she doesn’t _need_ his protection, or anyone’s. His affection has no strings attached, and his attentions don’t make her feel any weaker. If anything, she is only stronger because of them. She holds a power over him that he doesn’t grant to anyone else.

“Lucifer?” she calls quietly, hoping to be able to say this one thing before she inevitably falls asleep.

“Yes, darling?”

Chloe knows it would have more impact if she said it while looking at him, but it’s so nice and warm where she is, so she hopes he will still feel her sincerity.

“He wouldn’t have hated you. Maybe a bit in the beginning, but… in time, he would have loved you.”

_Just like I do._

She can sense Lucifer’s smile even without seeing it, can hear the accelerated beating of his heart and the little flip and stutter in his breathing. She knows fatherly love is such a foreign concept, to him. In another life, maybe John Decker would have given it to him. But with her dad alive, would Chloe have chosen to join the force? Would she still have met Lucifer? Somehow, it sort of feels like it simply wasn’t meant to be.

“Thank you for telling me that,” he says, kissing the top of her head again. “I certainly would have tried my best, for you.”

“I know.”

Chloe doesn’t remember a lot after that. All she knows is that when she wakes up in the morning, she is exactly where she was when she fell asleep: in Lucifer’s arms. He’s still on the couch with an armful of Detective curled in his lap, his head resting on the back of it, mouth slightly parted as he snores softly. The wood in the fireplace has burned to embers, the wine bottle lies abandoned on the table, and sunlight filters in through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the apartment.

Chloe has a bit of a headache, but nothing too serious. Slowly, she disentangles herself from Lucifer’s grasp and stands up, slightly wobbly at first. Then, as delicately as she can, she guides his body to lie down fully on the sofa, one hand behind his head to support it until it’s on the armrest. She swings his legs on the other side, takes off his shoes, and grabs the blanket from the armchair to drape it over his sleeping figure.

It’s a new day, and it’s time for _her_ to take care of her Devil now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story now has a second chapter to fulfill _another_ prompt for the project, suggested by the person to whom I gift this fic. It goes as follows: “Chloe and Azrael talk about John Decker's death; Chloe is emotional about it, but glad that Azrael was there so her dad didn't really die alone.” The idea was inspired by [this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15657936/chapters/36369852) fic by GlitterSkullFairy. Hope you like it!

Chloe is putting her empty wine glass in the sink behind the bar when she arrives. The angel of Death herself: what a bizarre, terrifying notion to contemplate. But of course, Chloe knows her too by now, and knows that hers is just a job, exactly like Lucifer being the King of Hell. Azrael takes no pleasure in doing what she does, in witnessing moments of pain and suffering (although followed, hopefully, by others of peace), but it’s her _duty_ – God-given, no less. And this, of course, is just a friendly visit.

The small angel lands on the patio outside, makes to walk in through the open glass window and then remembers that her wings might be an impediment. Chloe can’t help but giggle as she watches her roll her eyes in annoyance before putting them away with a shrug.

“Good morning,” she greets Lucifer’s sister, making her way around the bar toward her. Lucifer is still sleeping on the couch, oblivious. Chloe won’t wake him unless Azrael specifically asks, feeling guilty about the uncomfortable position she forced him to sleep in last night in her tipsy state.

“Morning,” Azrael replies in kind, peering down at him curiously from behind the backrest. Chloe takes the momentary silence as an opportunity to wipe the low glass table clean with the cloth she retrieved from behind the counter, erasing the round mark of the wine glass from the transparent surface. He wouldn’t like finding it there, because as it turns out, the Devil is a bit of a clean freak.

“What can I do for you?” Chloe asks distractedly, focusing on her task. She actually spilled more wine that she thought yesterday, so she also has to crouch down and wipe the slick marble floor underneath.

“Oh, nothing, really,” she hears Azrael say. “This is actually about what _I_ can do for you. I know what date it was yesterday. I actually landed here, so we could talk then, but you guys seemed to be having… a moment, so I left.”

“Oh.” Chloe straightens up to look at her, sheepishly rubbing the back of her neck. “Yeah, I was kind of drunk. But thank you, that was a lovely sentiment.”

Azrael shifts on the spot, fidgeting. “Do you… feel better now?”

Chloe smiles, endeared, then focuses her gaze on Lucifer’s sleeping figure. “I do. He… he really helped. But please,” she gestures at the bar behind them, “come sit with me. We can still chat.”

Azrael walks around the living room area and joins her, sitting awkwardly on the stool next to hers. They both find themselves staring at Lucifer for a while. He looks adorable, still wearing his suit but with a thick fluffy blanket draped over him, like a child who got exhausted after playing dress-up all day in his dad's clothes or something. When he’s asleep, more than any other time, it’s really hard to come to terms with how old he really is.

Then Chloe’s gaze shifts to Azrael, to the fondness she can see in the angel’s features. The same goes for her, though the thought of her age is even more jarring, considering that she looks like a teenager.

“I'm not sure I've ever seen him this peaceful,” Azrael comments quietly, one elbow on the counter. “Not even in Heaven.”

Chloe doesn’t really know how to respond: the sentence fills her with warmth and pride, but also sadness. It shouldn’t have taken this long for someone to make Lucifer happy. But she doesn’t feel like it’s her place to open old wounds or accuse anyone of anything, plus Azrael means well. She’s not sure other celestial siblings coming to visit would act the same, judging by what Lucifer tells her.

“I kinda… fell asleep on him,” she decides to share, lightening the mood. “And of course, he didn’t move from there the whole night because I said I wanted to stay there.”

Azrael chuckles lightly, amused. “Yeah, that sounds like Lu.”

Chloe almost envies her, in this moment. There is so much hidden in the words, _eons_ of experiences before it all fell apart. She knows she will only get to see a minuscule part of Lucifer’s existence, and sometimes it makes her feel small, insignificant in comparison to the eternity that is his nature. But then he looks at her like she’s the sun, or does this kind of silly, stupid, endearing gestures for her, and being loved by him so deeply is enough.

“So, do you, uhm… remember the date of everyone’s death?” Chloe inquires after a while, curious as she thinks about Azrael’s words when she arrived. “That would be a _lot_ of dates.”

“Oh, no, not really,” Azrael replies easily, before her expression turns uncertain. Chloe tilts her head toward her, waiting. “Well, he… _he_ was the one who reminded me. To make sure I would… check on you.”

Her father. Her _dead_ father worried about her wellbeing, even from the afterlife. Chloe gulps, eyes filling with tears. Even after her conversation with Amenadiel, when he told her John Decker was proud of her, it’s still a bit hard to make sense of the fact that there are _people_ in Heaven, that they can talk, that they can express opinions and concerns. And no matter how at peace he is, her dad is still concerned for _her_.

“Oh crap, I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you _more_ sad!” Azrael rushes to apologize, seeing Chloe quickly wipe at her cheek where a tear has rolled down her skin. But Chloe shakes her head, smiling.

“No, it’s… it’s actually an amazing thing to hear. You just caught me off guard, that’s all.” She hesitates. “Can he… see me?”

Azrael smiles sadly, suddenly looking older and wiser; looking like she knows better, because she does. “No, it doesn’t work that way. Let’s just say he gets a special treatment, given your relationship with my big bro over there. I don’t generally do this, otherwise I would barely have the time to do my _actual_ job.”

Which is carrying dead souls to Heaven or Hell. You know, just a job like any other, really. But the thought makes Chloe realize that Azrael was literally the last “person” her father somehow interacted with on Earth, something she couldn’t have known when he died. She hates to ask the next question, but she can’t help it.

“How was he when you… you know, when you took him?” She cringes at the choice of words.

Azrael’s face scrunches up. “Chloe, don’t do this to yourself. It doesn’t matter. He’s fine now, I promise.”

Chloe swallows thickly, nodding as she looks away. Honestly, what does she expect to hear anyway? No one would be happy to be dead. She won’t find any comfort in the answer.

Then Azrael speaks, quietly but loud enough to be heard. The penthouse is deadly silent after all, except for Lucifer snoring softly in the early morning light.

“He was… sad. He didn’t want to leave you; ‘It’s too soon’, he kept saying. That’s… fairly common: I hear it a lot, especially from parents with young children, people dying young or about to get married, stuff like that.” God, how can she stand it? “But then he did say something surprising. It’s rare, for dead souls to be certain of something. He said: ‘At least I know she’ll be okay. My little monkey is too strong to give up. She’ll do so many wonderful things, I know it.’ And, well… even though I couldn’t be sure, I believed him. Turns out he was right.”

Chloe chokes on her own breath for a moment. She doesn’t even register what she’s doing, not until her arms are around Azrael’s shoulders. The angel startles in surprise, standing still as Chloe hugs her. Despite her bond with Ella, Chloe understands that because of her job, Azrael is used to a completely different kind of contact with humans. It makes her feel a bit like Trixie hugging Lucifer, and she laughs out loud at the realization.

“Thank you,” she says as she pulls back, wiping at her cheeks again. “And thank you for being there with him. I mean, I know you didn’t exactly choose to, but… it makes me feel better to know he wasn’t really alone.”

“You’re welcome, Chloe.” Azrael’s smile is full of gratitude, heartwarming. “I will make sure to let him know you’re doing well. Is there… anything else you would like me to tell him?”

Oh, wow. That’s… a lot to process. So many people believe they can talk to their dead loved ones through rituals and summonings, often falling prey to cons and scams, and here she is, having a genuine opportunity to deliver a message to her deceased father. It’s a luxury, she realizes; a privilege. Another gift brought to her by Lucifer’s presence in her life, though indirectly.

But what is there to say? She struggles to find an answer. What she ends up with feels very… generic, but it’s truthful, and she sincerely hopes it will please him.

“Just tell him I think about him all the time. That I will always make sure his memory won’t fade away. That I talk about him with Trixie, a lot. And that… that yes, his little monkey _is_ strong, and will _never_ give up.”

“Duly noted.” Azrael nods vigorously, then gives a sigh. “Well, I should get going. You people die like flies.” Her eyes widen. “Uh, sorry. That was insensitive of me.”

“It’s okay,” Chloe chuckles. Yes, they’re talking about real people dying, but… she’s used to the weirdness at this point. She’s in love with the Devil after all.

Azrael stands up from the stool and makes her way to the open window, stopping behind the couch to look at Lucifer one last time. A small smile spreads across her face, creating dimples in her plump cheeks. Together with her awkward bowl cut, they make her look so young.

“Smell you later, Lu,” she whispers – an expression Chloe doesn’t understand, but that she assumes Lucifer would. Then Azrael turns to her. “You keep taking care of him for me, yeah? No matter how much of a pain in the ass he becomes?”

Despite the joke, there is a grave, solemn seriousness in her question. Chloe almost feels like she’s being asked to pledge an oath, but it’s so easy to answer.

“Always.”

The angel of Death nods, then heads outside. Chloe watches her spread her wings and take off, black robe fluttering in the wind in time with her flapping motions. Azrael becomes smaller and smaller, until she disappears, probably bound for Heaven to deliver her message.

Chloe looks back at the sleeping Devil on the couch, now curled into a ball with the blanket tightly tucked under his chin, mop of dark curls standing out from the soft brown shade of the leather under his head.

She did so many wonderful things, indeed, and can’t wait to do many more, with him.

Always.


End file.
